


Supernatural Drabbles

by obliviousally



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obliviousally/pseuds/obliviousally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various short drabbles and roleplay posts that stand alone well enough. Mentions of Ruby, Ellen, Crowley, Dean, and Lucifer.</p><p><b>Visions of the Devil:</b> Sam's seeing people who look like Lucifer.<br/><b>High Prices:</b> A Hellbound Jo makes a deal with Crowley to ditch the rack and trail the Winchester brothers after Sam is pulled from Lucifer box.<br/><b>Losing a Whole Year:</b> Sam wakes up in a motel room one year after he jumped into the box to save the world.<br/><b>Adrift:</b> In the weeks after Dean is dragged to Hell, Sam tries to learn how to cope.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Visions of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's seeing people who look like Lucifer. From an old roleplay post.

As Sam stuffs two duffel bags full of clothes into the washers at the laundromat, he checks his watch for the time. He knows he told a friend he’d catch up with her today, but he can’t quite remember the time. He wrinkles his nose a little in thought before a smell wafts up from the bag he’s holding and he ends up shoving the entire thing into the washer with a disgusted noise. 

After sticking change into the washers so they can do their thing, Sam grabs his bag and heads for the door. Before reaching to head outside, he stops suddenly, feeling like there’s eyes on him. He turns to verify that the laundromat is still as vacant of life as when he came in. 

Near the television, playing it’s near silent daytime television, sits a man with short blonde hair in bluejeans and a button-up shirt. He’s reading some mindless celebrity magazine, one leg crossed over the other, the foot in the air tapping to some unknown beat. The man does not say a word, but he looks up and smiles at Sam. 

Sam, on the other hand, hightails it out of the laundromat. 

Down towards diner, he’s calmed down a little bit, but still looks as if he’s seen a ghost. When he reaches the grasy food joint, he peers in the window to see…Ruby and another female sitting in a booth together. “Oh, this should be interesting,” he thinks to himself as the jingle of the bell on the door announces his presence.


	2. High Prices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Hellbound Jo makes a deal with Crowley to ditch the rack and trail the Winchester brothers after Sam is pulled from Lucifer box. From an old roleplay post.

The last mortal memory in Joanna Harvelle’s mind was falling asleep in her mother’s arms. Oh, she knew she was dying, there was no doubt about that. The gash through her stomach and over her ribcage, caused by Hellhounds, was very, very apparent. It was very painful and a very stark reminder that she was not going to make it. Sam and Dean tried, they really did, but she knew that her time was up and she knew there was nothing that could be done. 

It was a difficult decision to make, she was surprised to learn. It made perfect sense, sound logic. If they, the three of them - her mother and the two Winchester brothers - tried to carry her along while making an attempt to outrun Hellhounds. They would all die. Losing one would be just a small speed bump in the grand scheme of things. After all, what they were up against was bigger than the gaping hole in her side. 

She only wished her mother had gone with them instead of staying with her, instead of setting off the bomb that killed her and sent the Hellhounds packing, giving Sam and Dean time to get out alive. But there was no arguing with her mother, there never was. They were both as stubborn and willful as each other. 

But she was glad for the comfort when she went. It was strange, in a sort of serene and peaceful way. She understood why dying, for some, wasn’t a great fear. It felt like a relief, like everything was finally over. No more fighting against forces they’d never conquer. 

Unfortunately, the brief bout of serenity was abruptly and violently ended as she promptly ended up in Hell. 

It wasn’t that the destination was the biggest surprise, there’s a lot of rumors that all Hunters went to Hell. After all, they’re striking down all manner of creatures, innocent mortals playing host to Demons, bystander monsters who’d never spilt an ounce of blood. It was strange, that way, she supposed. 

Hell was all things Hell always has been, pain and torture and it never, ever ended. 

Until one day it did. 

One day, she took the choice to step down from the rack and take up torturing. The offer didn’t happen often and the stories of Dean and his father being asked daily to step down were specific to them, as the Demons were waiting for the first seal to be broken. Otherwise, torture happened until someone wanted something. When Jo stepped down, figuring torturing couldn’t be as bad as actually being tortured and it wasn’t as if she was going to end up being brought back from the dead or anything, she didn’t know who wanted what from her. 

So time passed slowly, as it does in Hell, and Jo, like all other demons, became an efficient torturer. It wasn’t something she reveled in, though she was told that she would in time. Instead, she was methodical and skilled at her job. All was well, given the circumstances, until she crossed paths with her mother. It was in the typical manner, one of them was on the rack, one of them was doing the torturing. Of all the things she’d faced and endured in Hell, torturing her mother wasn’t something she could stomach. 

So she made a deal. 

It was more difficult than expected to seek out the particular demon she was searching for, especially with the upheaval and the rumors that the Winchesters had won the great war. Somewhat. This meant that there was no Lucifer on the loose and the next in line had been set in charge of things. She was looking for Crowley. 

Crowley, on the other hand, had been looking for someone who could do a small job for him. They both chalked the situation up to coincidence, but they both had the sinking suspicion that it was anything but. 

In exchange for her mother being released from the rack - probably sent off somewhere where her intimidating glares and threatening appearance would be useful for keeping suffering mortals in line - Jo would go topside to keep an eye on Sam, who’d been pulled from the box by something. Crowley knew something had to be up and he needed eyes where he couldn’t be. 

So now Jo’s topside, on the search for the Winchester Brothers.


	3. Losing a Whole Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up in a motel room one year after he jumped into the box to save the world. From an old roleplay post.

It’d been a year. 

Sam didn’t know it’d been a year. Sometimes it felt like an eternity, sometimes it felt like a millisecond. There wasn’t an inbetween, however. Only two drastic extremes. It’d only been extremes since that overcast day in Stull Cemetery. Because of this, when he woke up in a dingy motel room on a completely uninteresting and plain Friday, he first thought he’d been dreaming. Or having an awful nightmare. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate the two, considering even the best times are pretty bad times. 

The first thing Sam had done was look for his brother, but there was no sign of any other life in the dim room. It was a double, two full beds, like they always got. A small kitchenette - an efficency room. A coffee maker, a small microwave, a cheap TV, and a Bible in the dresser drawer. Aside from the mussed part of the bed he’d awoken on, everything looked as if housekeeping had been through and no one had rented the room. There wasn’t even a key on the nightstand. 

What was present, was what was on his person when he was last of this mortal world. His wallet, containing about seventy bucks along with his driver’s license, credit cards not in his name, and other wallet miscellaney. In his inner jacket pocket was his cell phone, some lint, and two wintergreen Lifesavers. He trashed the latter, leaving his jacket and such on the bed. A shower was in order and a moment to think about his situation. 

After the shower, he took stock of his belongings outside of the two main items. Nothing was out of place that he usually carried on him and there was nothing in excess. On his coat and shirt, he found drops of dried blood. On the hem of his jeans and boots, dried dirt that he shook off onto the short, tan-colored carpet. 

Then, he sat down and stared at his phone. A twenty percent charge on it, all he’d have until he acquired a charger for it. Without so much as a second thought, he swiped through and called his brother’s number. He didn’t know if Dean had a hand in whatever was happening, if Sam had merely been dreaming, or if something else was up. Hopefully, the response would be helpful. Sam remembers almost stabbing Dean when his older brother came back from the dead. He hopes Dean doesn’t do the same to him. 

Ring, ring, ring, ri—an answer. “Dean?” Sam’s voice was rough around the edges, as if he was recovering from a cold or spent a night screaming about something. “It’s Sam. Like, it’s actually me.” That probably didn’t convince his brother, any demon or monster could say that. “Uh, do you know where I am?”


	4. Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the weeks after Dean is dragged to Hell, Sam tries to learn how to cope. From an old roleplay post.

It’d been about a week - maybe two, no more than three - since that day in Indiana. Time was barely being kept track of recently, it could have been a solid month, for all Sam knew. He remembers two days at Bobby’s place in South Dakota. Two long, painful days of ‘what happens next?’, ‘where do I go from here?’, and ‘I miss my brother’. On day three, anger crept into Sam’s mind and he cleaned himself up, readied the Impala (which was difficult to do without cracking), and bid farewell to Bobby. Sam departed, leaving the older man with only the knowledge that he was going to try to find a way to bring Dean back from Hell.

There wasn’t mention of the fact that Sam would be willing to endanger himself in the process, but Bobby didn’t need that worry on his head. 

For a few days, Sam drove and only drove. Stopping to sleep, stopping to eat, but not hunting. It was cathartic, in a way, but it was also lonely with an empty passenger seat, something so rare when he was behind the wheel. Sam had put his duffel there to take up space, but it was a poor substitute, though it did resemble his older brother trying fruitlessly to get comfortable while sleeping. 

Stopping at the Roadhouse wasn’t in his plan, but he barely had a plan to begin with. Just a pipedream that he’d find someone willing to buy, someone willing to sell, someone with anything he could use to bail his brother out of the pit. Even as he got out of the car and pushed the door closed, he worried the reaction he might get inside. Ellen and Jo were usually neutral parties, but the others who came and went weren’t always a sympathetic, especially considering all the trouble him and his brother have caused. 

Can’t always run from your demons, Sammy. 

Entering the building, there’s a small wave of relief, of familiarity. Sam and Dean had heard, awhile back, that the place had been attacked by demons and they had worried what had happened to it. Time was not on their side, so they’d not been able to check into it, though they’d gotten word through the grapevine that folks were okay, casualities were minimal. A good thing to hear. 

Life continued on inside the building even as Sam walked towards the bar. He could feel a few eyes on him, but shrugged them off and gave a nod to Ellen, who was behind the bar. He hoped there wouldn’t be questions about what happened over his birthday and, when Ellen told him it was good to see him and asked what he wasn’t to drink, that unspoken worry was pushed aside. 

Once he acquired a beer, he found a vacant, quiet table to settle down at. He’d spent a lot of time picking up information and hopeful leads over the last few days and needed to sort them out. He hoped the low buzz of noise in the Roadhouse would keep his thoughts from wandering and keep him from ending up back in that pit of despair he’d been in at Bobby’s. It was hard to keep balanced, so soon after everything had happened, but he damn sure was trying.


End file.
